


To Harness the Breath of God

by texankate



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Archaeology, F/M, Howard is not a Dick, M/M, Steve Angst, Tony Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texankate/pseuds/texankate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steven Rogers wants to leave behind his familial obligations and lead a life of exploration and adventure.  Tony Stark wants to put his skills to use as something more than a sideshow attraction.  An archaeological discovery embroils them in a race across the continent to be the first to re-discover an ancient secret that could change the fate of nations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Dark Things Are Afoot

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly plotted out, but is a work in progress. I'm hoping to update fairly often, if there seems to be interest in the story.

The man sat in a hookah-born cloud, taking in the sights and sounds around him while listening to other patrons chatter.  They talked about their wives, their concubines, and their business, lies and half-truths floating through the air like so much smoke.  They were all but oblivious to the stranger among them.  The man paid only a little mind, either; he was there to talk to one man, and one alone.

 He checked his pocket watch and saw that his contact was running late.  He took another puff and let the smoke drizzle out of his mouth, trying to remain patient.  The secrets he wanted to discover had waited nearly two thousand years to see the light of day, and twenty more minutes would not matter.  Two puffs later, he saw his contact making his way through the crowd.  Rahul was not a small man, and he crashed into nearly everyone, bring much more attention than the man would have liked.

 "As-salaam Alaikum, sahib," Rahul said, with a nod of his head.

 "Wa-Alaikum As-salaam," the man replied.  "Do you have news?"

 "Yes, sahib," Rahul said, settling down on the cushion.  "I have spoken with foreman of the dig crew.  He says they have packed the tablet up and taken it to England to put in some museum." 

 The man sighed.  "That is unfortunate," he said, and took another puff.  Already his mind had moved beyond listening to Rahul chatter, and on to planning the trip to England.  He had to find a fast airship headed to Europe, as quickly as possible.  He would have to stop in Paris, and pick up a couple of his associates, as well.  He could never move about in London as easily as he wished.  They would have to be his eyes and ears.  He returned to the one-sided conversation when Rahul mentioned payment for his services.

 "But you did not bring me the tablet," the man explained.  "I was very specific in my request."

 "There was no way to acquire the tablet," Rahul said, settling in for a long bargaining session.  "I brought you the information to help you get the tablet.  You owe me."

 The man stared at Rahul, perfectly quiet and perfectly still.  "I will pay you one third," he finally said.

 "That will not cover the monies I laid out to find your information," Rahul countered.  "Two thirds."

 "Had you worked faster, I could have caught the shipment before it left Egypt," the man said.  "Now I have to finance a trip to England.  One half."

 Rahul grinned.  "I suppose that is only fair," he said.  "Now we will celebrate?"

 The man dropped the hookah mouthpiece into his lap.  He dipped his left hand into a small pouch at his waist while his right hand offered a packet of coins to Rahul.  "This should cover your payment plus the refreshments," he said, with a grim smile.  "I must be off to book passage and tie up loose ends here."  He picked up the mouthpiece with his left hand and gave it to Rahul.  "Enjoy."

 "Safe journey, sahib," Rahul said, accepting the pipe and taking a long drag off of it.

 The man slipped out of the bar, and headed into the night.

Rahul took another long drag off of the hookah and smiled to himself.  He'd played the man, but good.  The archaeologist and his dig had been the main gossip down in the market, and Rahul and pieced together the information without having to pay for one bit. Two days of gossip had made him a tidy profit.  And the stupid European would never know!

 Laughing to himself, he took the money pouch and pulled open it open.  He dumped the coins into his hand, and was horrified to see not gold, but cheap tin and iron.  He had been cheated!  He should have made the man count it out in front of him.

The man would never get away with it, Rahul promised himself.  He dumped the coins back into the back and stuffed it into his pocket.  He took one last puff off of the hookah, and tried to stand.

 The room spun around him, and he fell to his knees.  He had never noticed the odd taste of the hookah pipe, and never realized that he was just a loose end that needed tying up.

 


	2. Enter Our Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven Rogers just wants to see the world and not make his mother cry. Is that too much to ask?

 

One does not ordinarily realize a lifelong dream at the tender age of twenty three.  But Steven Grant Rogers was no ordinary young man.  His father, God rest his soul, had called him a dreamer and had despaired Steven ever settling down into the family business.  His small group of friends did not understand his fascination with art and history, and teased him for burying his head in paintings and dusty old tomes and papers until the ink was dyed into his fingertips.  The young ladies of his acquaintance sighed at his height, his strong muscles, and his prospects, but they despaired of ever turning his head.

 As for how he saw himself, Steven knew he would never fit in with his family's circle.  He did not care for politics or business.  He did not care if the cut of his coat was fashionable.  His mother's dinner parties were torture, and he shuddered to think of what happened when he was pressured to ask some unfortunate female to dance.  His head was always somewhere else.  He wanted to see the world.  To see the great cultures that came before, to understand how they viewed the world and how they depicted their lives.  

 In a desperate bid to see Steven settle down and marry, Sarah Rogers gifted her son with the opportunity to see the things he most desired.  He was free to travel to London, and then on to the Continent, studying and reading every scrap of knowledge he could find along the way.  He could do this for six months, and then he had to return home and take up a position in the business.  She hoped that he could appease his curiosity once and for all, and finally give up on his dreams of being an artist and adventurer. 

 Her second stipulation was that he have companions.  His choice was his friend Bucky Barnes, the youngest son of a neighboring family and one of his few friends that didn't seem bothered by his scholarly ways.  For her part, his mother chose to send along her trusted employee, Mr. Philip Coulson.  He was loyal to the family, and had been blessed with a solid head on his shoulders.  He would be well equipped to keep Steven and Bucky out of trouble.

 

His mother had bid them farewell at the docks as they boarded a steamship for London, England.  She wept openly, and Steven had to swallow down his own tears at leaving her to manage on her own.  His sense of duty to his mother made him question his selfish wants, but the excitement at seeing the world would not let him offer to stay.

 “Please be careful,” Sarah said, brushing a stray lock of hair from Steve’s face with gentle fingertips.  “I expect you to return home in one piece, young man.”

 “I will do my best, Mother,” Steve said with a watery smile.  

 “We’ll keep him on the straight and narrow Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky said.  He threw his arm around Steven’s shoulders.   

 The frown on Sarah’s face belied her thoughts on Bucky’s likely influence.  “James Buchanan Barnes, if I hear that you have been leading my boy astray…”  The threat was unspoken, but no less terrifying.

Bucky had the grace to nod his head  vigorously.  “Yes ma’am, Mrs. Rogers.  You know I’d never let anything bad happen to Steve.”

Her face relaxed just a bit.  “I know, James.  But you have to admit that you and trouble have been good friends these long years.”

“And that is where I come in,” Philip said, placing a hand on each of the young men’s shoulders.  “I assure you that whatever thoughts they might have of this being a six -month long stint of debauchery, they are in for a much more studious time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but Steve silently sighed in relief.  Bucky tried to set him up with any decent-looking girl they came across, much to Steve’s chagrin.  He really did want to visit museums and libraries, castles and ancient ruins.  Bucky would have to be content with flirting with whatever studious young women they might come across.

With their luggage loaded, they made their way up the gangway onto the boat.  It would have been a faster voyage to take the airship, but while Sarah had agreed to the trip, she would not agree to allowing her only child to float across the ocean in one of those death traps.  She had never been fond of them, and that was before her husband died in a crash.  So their trip was to be on boats and trains, carriages whenever necessary.  Steve thought it was a small concession to make to keep her happy.

*

Bucky spent the entire voyage making eyes at every woman under the age of forty.  Steven spent long hours staring into the water, trying to imagine what great beasts lurked beneath the waves.  Philip spent his time making sure neither of them ended up overboard, victim of a common thief or angry papa. 

The passing was relatively calm, and they landed in London just two weeks later.  Philip had secured lodgings for them in a quiet yet fashionable neighborhood, so that neither Mrs. Rogers nor Bucky’s parents had any need to worry.  They spent the first few days getting a feel for the city; Bucky was able to locate the best establishments and Steven had a list of museums and exhibitions as long as his arm.  

On the eve of their first day of serious sightseeing, Bucky had predictably overindulged, and refused to drag himself out of bed to see, as he put it, a bunch of rocks, bones, and beads.  Steven, for his part, couldn't understand how anyone could be so dismissive of one of the greatest museums the world had ever seen.  In the end, however, he only had Philip with him as he walked up to the grand facade of The British Museum.  People milled about the steps, enjoying the fine weather.  Tutors and governesses herded their young charges into the great courtyard, where they sat down with a map and plotted out their excursions. 

By 1880, most of the natural collections had moved on to their own museum, but Steven was most interested in the historical exhibitions still housed at the enormous complex on Great Russell Street.  It contained wondrous things, from the Elgin Marbles to the famed Rosetta Stone.  Humanity’s understanding of the world around them, documented in stone and papyrus for all to see.

They stopped on a bench out front so Steven could do a preliminary sketch of the building.  His pencil quickly outlined the Greek Revival structure, stopping to make sure the columns were spaced out correctly on his page.  He roughed in the pediment with quick strokes, making a note to himself to do a more thorough sketch later, when he had time.  Philip sat quietly beside him, staring at the huge crowd of visitors.

"I hesitate to agree with young Master Barnes, but I did not expect there to be this many people at a museum," Philip said, tipping his hat at a passing group of women.

"It is a new age, Philip," Steven said, frowning at at the eastern end of the pediment, trying to discern more detail.  "Science and reason are transforming the world before our eyes."

"So why study the past if we're worried about the future?" Philip asked.

Steven looked up and smiled.  "Because it's easier to discern the road in front of you if you have some idea of the road behind," he said.  "The Greeks, the Romans, and the Egyptians were all great scientific civilizations in their time.  Who knows what knowledge has been lost over the years?  We don't build things like the Great Pyramid these days.  I don't know if we could.  But maybe, by studying the original builders, we can figure it out."

Philip looked at Steven with a fond smile.  He never pretended to understand his charge, but that didn't stop him from liking the young man.  And for all of Joseph Rogers’ bluster about Steven being so much unlike him, Philip recognized the passion and intensity of his old friend in the blue eyes peering back at him.

Steven finished his sketch, and stuck his pencil back into his pocket.  He and Philip wandered up to the entrance and climbed the broad steps.  The found a map posted, listing all of the exhibits.  Steven studied the map for several moments before leading Philip towards the Egyptian and Greek galleries. 

He pulled his pencil out yet again when they came face to face with the Elgin Marbles, the chunks of pediment that Lord Elgin had pried off of the Parthenon years before.  He started off with the horsemen of the West Frieze, with the unmounted riders and horses.  It had always amazed him that artists could capture the human figure in mid movement, and could convey everything from the flex of a muscle to the flap of a cloak in the breeze as if it were a moment plucked out of time.  He stepped closer to get a better look.

"Why are you looking at his cock and ballocks?" Philip asked, alarm clear in his voice.

"I'm not," Steven said.  "But look at this.  See how the sculptor managed to define all of the abdominal muscles, without making them look unnatural."  

"I'm not looking anywhere near his abdominal muscles," Philip said with a slight growl.  "You can get arrested for that."

"Philip," Steven said, with a huge sigh.  "Really.  I'm just appreciating it from a scientific perspective."

"Like that boy on the boat?" Philip asked.  "Just what science were you appreciating with him?"

Steven had the grace to blush.  He did not have much experience with the fair sex.  Everyone chalked it up to his being so serious in his studies, but deep down, he had always wondered why his heart never beat faster when one of the eligible ladies his parents paraded in front of him made his pulse leap. 

Two days into their sea voyage, he had found himself staring at one of the stewards who came by to check on their rooms.  After a few hesitant discussions, Steven found out that the boy's name was John, and that he'd been at sea for nearly six years.  Steven made sure that he was in the cabin during John's rounds, and that had many a companionable chat while John replaced the bed linens and checked the lavatory.  Steven had a horrible feeling deep down in his gut as to why he enjoyed talking to John(laughing brown eyes, bright smile), but he thought he'd kept it well hidden.  Apparently not.

"Philip, I--"

"Don't trouble yourself, Steven," Philip said.  "You know I will not speak of it to anyone else.  But you must be more circumspect.  How do you think your friend Bucky will react if he finds out?" 

Steven swallowed.  He and Bucky had been friends since they were babies, and Bucky had always stood by him when their other friends teased Steven.  He had been a good friend, and while Steven hoped their friendship would weather a scandalous revelation, he could easily see Bucky feeling like those years of friendship had been betrayed.

"I understand, Philip.  I do," Steven said.  "But I really was just looking at the anatomy."

Philip grunted.  "Well, just try not to look so happy about it."  He gave Steven a light punch on the arm.  "Let's go look at the horse.  At least it's just the head."  Steven cackled, but followed his chaperon.

They finished the Greek galleries, and wandered in to see the famous Rosetta Stone.  Since neither of them could read any of the languages, they moved on to the other Egyptian antiquities.  In a small gallery to the side, they found a young man not much older than Steven, sketching the remains of what looked like a large tub made of black stone.  As they stepped closer, Steven could see the Egyptian markings on the side.  He cleared his throat.

"What is it?" he asked softly. 

The young man looked up and Steven promptly lost the ability to breathe.  He was a several inches shorter than Steven, but he gave the impression of strength, arms bulging against his shirtsleeves.  His brown eyes sparkled with humor.  Plump lips curved into a cheeky grin as the man took his pencil away from the paper.

"It's a clepsydra," the man said.  "Egyptian.  They think it's from the 4th century B.C."

Steven walked around the object, trying to discern some sort of purpose.  "What does it do?"

"It's a water clock," the man said.  "And unlike a sundial, it's not affected by a patch of bad weather."

"Ingenious," Steven said, giving the man a grin.  "Are you a scholar?"

The man snorted.  "Not at all.  I'm just an intrigued engineer.  I'm Tony, by the way.  Tony Stark."  He held out his hand.

Steven gripped it firmly and shook.  "I am Steven Rogers, and this is my friend Philip Coulson."

Tony reached over to shake Philip's hand as well.  "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said.  "Are you interested in Egypt?"

Steven shrugged.  "I’m interested in ancient cultures in general.  And you can’t come to London and not come here."

"Very true," Tony said.  

"Are you here for the Egyptian relics, or general interest," Steven asked, not wanting the conversation to end.  He could feel Philip tense beside him, but ignored the older man.

"I am interested in all things mechanical," Tony said.  "I'm not much for appreciating art, or old bones, but I am deeply jealous of their technical breakthroughs."

"Surely our modern conveniences put them to shame," Philip said, eyebrows raised.  "They didn't have trains or airships."

"No, but they had devices that we are just now starting to understand," Tony said.  "They understood pneumatics and mechanization, and used them quite effectively."

Steven grinned.  "It's amazing how advanced they were in some areas, but not others.  They understood so much about how the body was put together, but very little about how it worked," he said. 

Tony nodded.  "They made all of these huge advancements, and used them for temple tricks," he said, with a snort.  "People didn't understand that it was just science.  They believed that the men were magicians."

Tony explained how the clock worked, and that there would be a second vessel that would catch water running out of the first.  "And inside, there would be tick marks marking the hours," he went on.  "A different set for every month, to account for the different seasons.  It's ingenious, really."

"Indeed," Steven said.  "Are there other mechanical devices here?"

"A few," Tony said.  "But there is a new exhibition opening in a week.  It should have more.  Will you still be in London?"  He seemed almost hesitant to ask.

"Most assuredly," Steven said.  "Perhaps we can come back and view the new exhibition.  Would you mind being our guide?"  He ignored Philip clearing his throat.

"I would be happy to," Tony said.  "May I have your direction?  I will send word when the exhibit will be open."

Steven tore a sheet out of his notebook and wrote down the address of their lodgings.  He was somewhat disappointed that Tony did not offer his own in return, but it was not that important.  Tony wandered with them through a few more of the Egyptian galleries before taking his leave.

"I really must go, unfortunately," he said.  "My guardian requires me to be home by three o'clock."

"Of course," Steven said.  "I don't suppose you would like to explore the Natural History Museum on the morrow?  Look at some of God’s engineering?"

Tony grinned.  "I wish that I could.  I have engagements all day tomorrow, but perhaps the day after?"

"Wonderful," Steven said, feeling his cheeks warm.  "It opens at noon."

"Then I will see you on Thursday at noon," Tony said.  He shrugged back into his coat and gathered his notebook and pencil.  "Good day to you both."  He left with a jaunty wave.

"And to you," Steven called after him.  He watched Tony exit the gallery and turn towards the main entrance, not turning back to Philip until his new friend was out of sight.

"I think it was safer to stare at the statues," Philip said, unhappiness evident on his face and in his tone.

"I have no idea what you mean," Steven said, blushing.  He continued on to the next gallery.  "It cannot hurt to make a new friend in a strange city.  Tony seems to know quite a bit about the museums here."

"I'd rather you say nothing than to lie to my face," Philip said, stalking after him.  "That young man will be trouble, take my word."

"Nonsense.  He's merely another person interested in science," Steven said, his hackles starting to rise.  "If you do not care for his acquaintance, then you do not have to join us on Thursday."

"Don't be ridiculous.  Your mother sent me here to keep you out of trouble.  I'm not letting you go off unsupervised with this man," Philip said.

Steven was perfectly aware that people were starting to stare.  "We can discuss this later.  But know this, Philip.  I'm not a child, and I don't care why my mother sent you here.  I am perfectly capable of looking after myself."  He had lost his interest in the artifacts around him.  He just wanted to go back to their rooms and see what Bucky was up to.  If nothing else, the other young man had a way of relieving tension, even if it was by being completely ridiculous himself.

*

Steven chose the National Library for his next venture.  It was interesting, but not as exciting as the previous day.  There was no one there with merry brown eyes and a kind grin.  Instead, he had to make do with books and scrolls, and an exhibition on a small tribe in western Africa.  He had persuaded Bucky to come along, if only for the possibility of sketches of the native women in little to no clothing.  Of course, when some of the sketches (available only to the male patrons) showed native men in no clothing, Philip suddenly decided that they needed to see the copy of the Magna Carta three rooms over.

Bucky finally broke around three in the afternoon.  He had been given a tip about a carnival on the outskirts of London by a grubby young man on the previous afternoon.  All sorts of things were promised, including a gentleman's only show in the back tent.  Steven and Philip weren't keen on joining him, however, and Bucky left them to strike out on his own.  They finished up around five, and made their way back to their lodgings, stopping for an early dinner.  

They sat at a corner table, with mugs of beer and plates of beef and potatoes in front of them.  Steven had worked up quite an appetite, and the table was quiet as they ate their dinner.  When Philip was done, he pushed his plate away and picked up his mug.

"We will visiting the Natural History tomorrow, correct?" he asked, an odd tone to his voice.

"Yes.  I am to meet Tony at noon, as you know," Steven said.  He had a feeling that he knew where Philip was leading.

"Are you certain that this is a good idea?" Philip asked, a frown marring his face.

"Philip, we have been over this," Steven said.  "Tony is a pleasant, intelligent, young man.  He is interested in science, and that is my only interest in him."

Philip would not let the matter go.  "Is this why you have not offered for any of the young women back home?" he asked.  "There are several who have been throwing themselves at you for the past two years.  Good girls, from good families."

Steven prayed for the earth to open up and swallow him.  The only people who could have made the conversation more uncomfortable were his mother and their priest.  "Philip, I have not taken a wife because the thought of being married to someone who cannot understand my passions and ambitions is most upsetting.  Those good girls you speak of would just want me to give up everything that interests me and go to work for my family.  I've seen what it's done to my cousins, and I don't want the same thing for myself."

"What do you intend to do, then?" Philip asked.  "How do you intend to fund your studies?"

"I don't know.  I'll find a patron, perhaps.  And when I've made a name for myself, perhaps my writings can support my research," Steven said.  He hadn't spoken those plans aloud to anyone, and he was angry that Philip had drawn them out.  "But I will not shackle myself to a wife and raise children if it means giving up everything that makes me, well, me."

Philip sat back in his chair, his jaw hanging open in shock.  "You're leaving your mother?" he asked, when he was finally able to string words together.

"One of the things I want to do on this trip is to make connections and possibly find a patron," Steven admitted.  "Then, when we return home, I will have a decided plan of action in place when I tell Mama."  He hung his head, wanting to avoid the accusation he knew he'd see in Philip's eyes.

"You are decided in this," Philip said.  "You will turn your back on your family and friends, on everything that you know and love to pursue this?"

"If they truly love me, they will understand.  Or at least accept that it is what makes me happy," Steven said.

"Does Bucky know about this?" Philip asked.  The two young men were close, but Philip wasn't sure how far Bucky's indulgence of his friend's eccentricity would stretch.

Steven smiled.  "He says that when he finally meets and marries a beautiful young heiress, they can fund my expeditions."

Philip grinned, in spite of himself.  "He's a good friend, I suppose.  For being incorrigible."

"He is both of those," Steven replied.  "So.  I suppose you'll be wiring my mother now.  I'm sure she will tell you to drag me back."

"I have no idea what I'm going to do," Philip admitted.  "For now, we can continue on our trip.  You might discover that this is not the life you actually want, you know."

"Thank you Philip," Steven said, relief coursing through his veins.  "If you are right, I will happily go home.  But I don't think you will be."

"The future is a shadowy place," Philip replied.  "None of us know what awaits us around the bend."

Philip didn't mention Tony again.  He quietly tagged along when Steven struck out for the museum after a late breakfast, and limited his comments to the weather and the traffic.  For his part, Steven could not keep still.  He was anxious to meet his new friend again, and to take his turn as a guide.  He'd looked at the exhibits yesterday with Tony in mind, trying to find those that contained a mixture of his love of art and Tony's love of mechanics.  There were more than he'd anticipated.

Although they were ten minutes early, Tony was already waiting for them on the steps.  Steven's heart sped up as he took in Tony's smile and glinting brown eyes.  

"Good day," he said, extending his hand to Tony.  The other man took it and gave a firm handshake.

"Good day, Mr. Rogers," Tony said.  "Mr. Coulson, it is good to see you, too."  He extended his hand to Steven's companion.

"Mr. Stark," Philip said, returning the handshake.

"So what wonders do you have in store for me today?" Tony asked.  "Some monstrous skeleton or exhibition on a lost tribe?"

Steven grinned.  "No, I think I've found a few exhibits that even you might enjoy," he said.  "Shall we?"

They entered the museum, where Steven guided them to the ornithological exhibits.  They passed the penguins and ostriches, moving on to the exhibits on flight.  There were diagrams of a bird's wing, and explanations on how they managed to stay up in the air.

"Nothing like the airships," Steven said.  "I don't know if man could duplicate the sheer elegance of the form."

Tony stared at the drawings.  "One day," he murmured.  "One day we'll be able to.  Airships, steamships.  They're just the beginning."  His voice was far away and dreamlike.

Steven glanced over to see the concentration and joy on his friend's face.  He was happy to have helped put it there.

"Is that what you want to do?" he asked.  "Help men fly like the birds?"

Tony shook himself out of his rapture and turned towards Steven.  "Maybe?  I just know that I want to make amazing things.  Things that can help mankind."

"That is an honorable goal," Steven said, softly.  "Knowledge in service of mankind."

"Indeed it is," Tony said.  He stepped back from the exhibit, a delightful blush on his cheeks.  "So what else do you have to show me?" he asked with a grin.

"Follow me," Steven replied.  He turned and headed towards the ichthyology exhibit.

"Gladly," Tony replied.

*

They spent the afternoon poring over exhibits and exchanging ideas.  Both men pulled out their notebooks and made sketches of several of the exhibits, swapping books and offering suggestions on a regular basis.  Philip followed at a discreet distance, his stomach sinking at every glance Steven made towards his new companion.  It sank further when he realized that Tony seemed just as entranced.  It all sank down into a ball of worry in the pit of his belly.

The museum staff walked through the halls some hours later, ringing a bell and asking that all patrons make their way out of the building.  Steven had no idea how the time had passed so quickly.  Tony pulled his watch out and started when he saw the time.

"Oh goodness," he said.  "I'm afraid I have to go.  My guardian will be wondering where I am."

"Would you care to meet us for supper later on?" Steven asked, loathe to give up his companion.  

"I'm afraid that would be impossible," Tony said with a frown.  "But I still have your direction.  I will send word when I am free again, and perhaps we can meet up again?"  Steven could hear the faint hints of hope in Tony's voice.

"I would like that very much," Steven said.  "And you promised to guide me through that new exhibition when it opens."

"I did," Tony said.  He grinned at Steven.  "I must go.  But I will see you soon, my friend."

"Take care," Steven said, holding his hand out.  Tony shook it and then tipped his head to Philip.  "Good day to you both," he said, and then was gone.

They walked back to their lodgings, hoping to find Bucky and drag him out to dinner.  They found him, easily enough, but he was already preparing for his night out.  

"You should both join me," he said.  "I'm going back to that carnival."

"Aren't we a little old for that sort of thing?" Steven asked, with a teasing grin.

"Or a little young?" Philip asked.  "Lord knows what sorts of things young Mr. Buchanan wants to show us."

"The back room show is nice," Bucky said, thoughtfully.  "But you have to see the illusionist.  He's amazing!"

"Illusionist?" Steven said, snorting.  "They're just charlatans and thieves."

"Not this one, I swear," Bucky said.  "I think he might be the real thing.  He can predict the future and read minds."

"Don't be ridiculous," Steven said.  "I've read about the tricks they use to make people think they're real.  It's just that, a trick."

"Well, if you're so sure, then come and prove me wrong," Bucky said, his jaw set and firm.  He could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to.

"It might be amusing," Philip said, with a shrug.  "Museums are wonderful, but you should see what else the city has to offer, Steven."

Steven was aware of the things Philip wanted him to see.   Pretty young women who could turn his head and his thoughts away from science.  And Tony.  But he supposed it might be fun.

"As you wish," he said.  "I shall find my amusement in proving you wrong, Bucky."

"Don't bet on it," Bucky said.  "Now hurry up.  We don't want to miss this for the world."

 

 


	3. Enter the Other Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wants to be so much more than he is.

Tony hurried down the bustling alley, dodging washerwomen and delivery men in a vain attempt to make it back before Obadiah missed him.  He did not want to explain himself and his absence, and he knew that Obie would find some way of dragging the truth out of him if he suspected anything.  And Steven Rogers was a secret he did not intend to share.

One of the incontrovertible truths of Tony’s life was that Obadiah Stane would find a way to turn any good thing that happened to Tony to his own advantage, no matter what Tony might want.  Tony’s natural talents in engineering brought him attention wherever they traveled.  He had patched machines for some very wealthy individuals, but he was rarely the one who profited.  

And when he was able to save money from various smaller jobs that Obadiah didn’t arrange, with the hopes to finance some sort of education?  As soon as Obadiah found his hoard, off it went into the carnival’s coffers, along with any chance he might have had to get out of the carnival and into something more respectable.  And most were happy to rat him out to Stane.  And it wasn’t because they hated Tony.  They did not do it to make him miserable.  They just did not comprehend that he might want something for himself.  Everything he had belonged to them all.  Money, inventions, or talent.

He can only imagine what Obadiah might think of Steven.  Stane had always berated Tony for what he considered 'unnatural' and 'immoral' tendencies, always missing the irony in the situation.  But Tony is sure that Stane wouldn't bat an eye at the thought of throwing Tony at the obviously wealthy young man if he thought he could reap some sort of benefit.  And Steven, the sweet, innocent young man Tony had come to like, wouldn't stand a chance.

No, it was better to keep Steven away from anything to do with Tony’s life.  They was due to move on a couple of weeks, so it shouldn't be too hard.  He would meet up with Steven at whatever exhibition, and then come back to the carnival.  He would do what he had to, and maybe allow himself a small slice of happiness that he could keep to himself.  Stane would never have the opportunity to take advantage of Steven and Steven would never have to know…

"Tony!" Pepper yelled, jumping off the back of the wagon.  "Where have you been?"  Pepper was one of the few bright spots in Tony’s life.  She managed to keep Stane off of his back as much as possible, even though she shook her head at most of Tony’s grand plans.

"I'm sorry Pepper," he said.  "I had to see about some spare parts for the new machine."  He felt bad lying to her, but she wouldn’t understand why he wanted to spend time with Steve.

She still looked unhappy, but at least she accepted his lies.  "Very well.  Obadiah is in the tent, trying to prepare for this evening.  He’s been yelling for you for the last hour."

"On my way, Pep," Tony said, hanging his head to hide any annoyance on his face. 

Tony climbed into his own wagon and changed into work clothes.  The pants had oil stains and tiny rips, and the boots were scuffed and dirty.  He felt more at home in those clothes than in any others he possessed.  He stopped by the mechanical wagon and grabbed his tool box before heading to the main attraction tent.  Inside, Obadiah and his son Zeke had the belly of the great machine open, and were poking the gears sporadically, apparently hoping to do some good.

"It's very delicate," Tony said, coming up behind them.  "Poking it with a stick isn't going to fix a thing."

"Well then get in here with your tools and oil cans and make it work," Obadiah said.  "Our first show is in two hours, and we've got nothing to draw them in if 'The Great Oracle' isn't working."

"What's wrong?" Tony asked.  

"The two foot pedals on the left aren't working," Zeke explained.  "Right now, the only the silver bird sings."

"I'll check the hydraulics," Tony said, more to himself than to the other men.  "Go get ready for the show.  I'll have her up and running."  He patted the brass machine with affection, and maybe a hint of exasperation.  He knew how sensitive it was, but it was still an impressive and grandiose machine, if he did say so himself.

Tony had shown a talent for machines at an early age.  At age five, Tony had completely rebuilt a clockwork soldier given to him by his father’s friend Obadiah and broken in a moment of clumsiness.  His father and Obie had watched in fascination as Tony's tiny fingers adjusted the tiny gears and levers, allowing the small automata to move arms and legs once more.  For Howard, it had been a joy to see his son follow in his footsteps, and it heralded a new era to their relationship.  Tony spent hours at his father’s knee, watching him in his workshop and lending his hands and mind when Howard needed them.  It was a blissful time, cut short when Howard and Tony’s mother Maria were killed in an airship crash when Tony was only nine, leaving Tony in the care of Howard’s old friend Obadiah.

Where Howard had found joy in Tony’s gifts, Obadiah found the path to money.  He had for years used his own meager engineering and science skills to run a carnival that traveled Europe, dazzling the poor and uneducated with ‘ancient wonders’ that most people in larger cities took for granted.  However, with Tony and his skills at his disposal, Obadiah envisioned a much more profitable scheme.

When Tony was ten, he built his first steam powered device--a simple model of an aeolipile that waved flags and streamers as it spun.  Obadiah had taken one look and promptly confiscated it for the show.  People had marveled at the sight, especially in the smaller towns not used to seeing steam power.  Money and people had flowed in, and suddenly Obadiah took every opportunity to foster Tony's 'gift'.  He even sent the boy to stay in Howard’s old workshop with only the family retainer Jarvis to watch over him for months at a time.  His sole purpose in the kindness was to keep Tony inventing new things to keep the rubes piling in.

Tony studied the scientific journals and translations of ancient texts.  Each year, he designed something new and spectacular for Obadiah, and every year he became more disenchanted with his work.  He saw things in the ancient texts that could actually be used to help people, not just entertain them.  He started his own little side projects, trying desperately to keep them from Obie’s notice.  But when Obadiah discovered them, he turned purple with fury and made sure Tony knew to keep his mind on the business, not those other flights of fancy.

Tony created The Great Oracle at age twenty.  With the exception of a particular gift for Jarvis, it was his finest work.  The Great Oracle was a marvel of mechanics and pneumatics, all in the service of tricking gullible people.  On the one hand, Tony was incredibly proud of his craft.  On the other, he could not help the sharp stabs of guilt in his belly.  He promised himself then and there that he would find a way out.  He would find a way to use his skills for the betterment of mankind. 

Jarvis had agreed.  He stayed friendly with Obadiah out of a sense of duty to Tony, but he hated to see the young man's skills wasted on chicanery.  He spoke to an old acquaintance at the University of Glasgow, and secured Tony a position there if he could help pay for his studies.  Tony had taken any job he could find in the little towns they visited in order to save up enough money.  He'd repaired mills, clocks, and anything mechanical he could find.  Every town saw his money box get fuller and fuller.  Until Obadiah intercepted a letter from Jarvis.

Obadiah had raged for days at Tony's betrayal.  He took the money and threw Tony out onto the streets, leaving the young man with only the clothes on his back.  Tony had barely scraped by, eating half of what he normally did and sleeping under the stars without even a blanket or heavy coat.  In the end, Obadiah had tracked him down and brought him home.  Tony almost believed that they wanted him back because they missed him until Obie marched him to the prop wagon as soon as they returned to the camp.  It seemed that there was a problem with the machine, and they needed Tony to fix it.  Tony was hungry and wanted to sleep in a bed, so he fixed the machine.  Obadiah believed Tony sufficiently cowed, and Tony realized that he would have to stay with the carnival until another opportunity presented itself.

Unbeknownst to Obadiah, Tony's intelligence ran to more than machines.  Through careful observation and an innate ability to not exist to his family unless there was a problem, Tony managed to keep up his correspondence with Jarvis.  The older man harbored a good deal of guilt for putting Tony and Obie even more at odds, and as a peace offering sent Tony whatever articles he could find.  He also directed Tony to kindred souls at various points along their journeys. 

While the carnival had a month-long stopover in Oxford, Jarvis had directed Tony to seek out a young man named Bruce Banner, the son of a British officer and the a young Irish immigrant.  Bruce's passion was ancient languages and science, and he'd been working on translations of works by several ancient engineers.  He had been extremely helpful to Tony, shedding light on some of the more arcane passages in his studies.  The two men had struck up an unlikely friendship--scholar and itinerant engineer. 

It was Bruce who first alerted Tony to the special exhibition coming to the museum.  One of his colleagues had just returned from an expedition on the coast of Egypt, and was busy translating a section of wall from what appeared to be a workshop of some sort.  Bruce had read enough of the ancient texts to recognize the style of Heron of Alexandria, one of the ancient fathers of engineering.  The notations on the wall were different from Heron's earlier works, and Bruce was certain that Tony would be interested in the results of the dig.  The museum considered the site a major find, as Heron was never known to work in in that area, and speculation ran rampant at what the workshop might mean.  As for himself, Bruce could not wait to get his hands on the materials to try his hand at the translations.

Tony had read translations of much of Heron's work, as well as that of Archimedes.  He considered both men to be amongst the greatest minds of all time, and he was thrilled to see any new information on either man.  He hated that he had over a week to wait before the exhibition, but at least the carnival was staying put long enough for him to see it.  And he supposed that he might spend some time with Steven to while away the hours.

Tony adjusted one last gear and wiped away the excess oil.  He closed the machine up, and stepped to the back of the tent to try out the machine.  The con in The Great Oracle is always the plants in the audience, like with most of the great ones.  Whoever was in the audience would pick a mark, and try to observe something unique about them.  The shill would signal the second seat, who operated the machine from the back of the tent.  The second seat also relayed information to Obadiah via a complex series of hand signals they had come up with.

"The Great Oracle tells me that someone in this tent wishes to be somewhere else.  Is this true?" Tony mumbled.  He stepped down on the left pedal, and was gratified when the metal bird on top of the oracle 'sang' out a loud, bright note.  "Yes indeed, it is true.  Oh Great Oracle, someone in this tent has found a kindred soul in a handsome stranger."  Tony stepped on the middle pedal.  "The signs are unclear, audience.  Now, Great Oracle, someone in this tent wants to die an old and broken down confidence artist."  Tony stepped down on the right pedal.  "No.  Ah well."

Tony packed up his tools and lugged the great box back to the mechanical wagon.  He then went to Obie’s trailer know that the machine was fixed, and found the man dressing for the early evening show.  

"Everything should be working now," Tony said, standing by the door.  Obadiah didn't like it when his stage clothes got oil or grime on them, and Tony was covered in both.

"Should be or is?" Obadiah asked.  He adjusted his cravat and brushed invisible lint from his sleeves.

"Is," Tony confirmed.  "Do you need me in the tent this evening?"

"Of course," Obadiah said.  "Since you've spent your day off wasting time doing God knows what, I think you should pull your weight around here tonight.  Zeke can be our outside talker this evening.  He at least can manage to keep his clothes clean."  The last was said with a disgusted sneer.  

"Yes Obie," Tony said, barely managing to bite his tongue.  "Shill or second seat?"

"I think Whitney and Pepper can shill tonight.  Owen and Ethan, too ," Obadiah said.  "You work second seat in case anything goes wrong with the pedals again."

Tony nodded, though he wasn't sure how he was supposed to fix anything from the back of the tent, especially in front of an audience.  But he doubted Obie knew enough about the machine to realize that.  He probably thought all Tony did was bang the offending pedals against the wooden chairs until they worked again.  Tony left Obie to finish dressing.  He returned to his wagon and rinsed off the grime he wouldn't need as best he as he could before changing into his clothes for the evening.  Gone was the earnest young engineer that had spent the afternoon with Steven.  In his place was a rough character with a grubby face (thanks to the oil from the machine) and threadbare clothes.

Tony shuffled into the tent with the rest of the crowd lured in by Zeke's patter.  No one would expect another paying customer to be in on the con.  He saw Pepper and Whitney take their places in the crowd, already chatting up their neighbors.  Zeke closed the tent opening once the crowd was packed in, and sidled up to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have come to see the Obadiah the Magnificent and his Great Oracle," Zeke said, stepping up onto the stage.  His brother really did have a way with the crowd.  "Obadiah the Magnificent has traveled the world, searching for answers to the great mysteries in life."  Tony could see that the crowd was already eating out of Zeke's hand.  

"He faced mystics from India.  He beat down the doors of the Forbidden Palace of the Chinese Emperors.  He traveled to the ancient tombs of the Pharaohs.  Finally, in the ruins of an ancient Greek temple, he discovered--"  Zeke paused, jerked off the deep red velvet covering, and dropped to his knees.  He held his arms up to the machine in supplication.  "The Great Oracle."  Tony heard several gasps from the audience.  

"At risk to his own life, he managed to whisk it away from the locals in the dead of the night, fighting his way through the mountains and crossing the continent.  And now you can see the wonder and mystery for yourself.  Ladies and gentlemen, I present: Obadiah the Magnificent!"

The crowd erupted in applause as Obadiah entered the tent from the back.  His imposing height and somber black wardrobe gave him an air of gravitas.  He held out his arm towards the machine, and the deep red silk that lined his cloak fluttered like a bird's wing.  Tony might have been standing behind the crowd, but he knew that each and every one of them was riveted.  

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Obadiah said, with the Eastern European accent he affected when they were in England.  Whatever the man's faults, he knew how to put on a show.  "I am Obadiah the Magnificent, and I am here to share the wonders of The Great Oracle."  The crowd burst into applause again.  

Tony looked to Pepper and Whitney, the other shill sitting in the audience.  He saw Pepper adjust her hat, calling for his attention.  Her index finger pointed to the woman to her left, and she tugged one of her curls, the sign for a dead relative.  Since she used her pinkie finger to do it, it meant a dead child.  She then coughed into her left hand, meaning a son.  Tony laid his hand on his lapel and relayed the signs to Obie.

"Oh Great Oracle," Obadiah said, holding up his hands.  "Are you ready to help the poor souls in this tent discover the answers to their questions?"

Tony stepped on the left pedal, and the brass bird opened it's mouth and piped out a clear note.

"The Oracle is ready!" Obadiah cried.  "Who will be the first to ask the Oracle?"  Hands shot up around the room.  Obadiah noted Pepper's tiny gestures, and brought up the chosen mark.

"You have questions for the Oracle?" Obadiah asked.  The woman nodded.   "You have lost someone, a child perhaps?"  The woman nodded again, grief and awe battling in her eyes.

"My boy, Albert," she said.  "He was in Burma last year when the war started.  I ain't heard from him since."

"Do you want to know if he has passed on?" Obadiah asked.  

"No, I figure he is gone.  But he left a girl here, carrying a babe.  I want to know if the babe is his, or if she played him false," the woman said.

Tony looked to Pepper.  She had most likely gotten the whole story from the woman earlier.  She lifted her right hand and adjusted her hat.  Tony stepped on the pedal and the bird sang.

"Your son's sweetheart was true," Obadiah said.  "You may have lost your son, but you have gained a grandchild."  The woman looked relieved, and the crowd applauded.

They moved on to a young man who wanted to know if he would find his fortune in Australia (no) and a woman who wanted to know if she should marry the young soldier(no) or the older law clerk (yes).  Right on time, a skeptic shouted out his doubts from the middle of the crowd.  

"This is all a bunch of hooey," the man said.  "I've heard of con artists.  You're just a liar."

Obadiah drew himself up straight and schooled his features into a tight frown.  "Sir, I assure this is most real," he said.  "Perhaps you would like to ask your own questions of the Oracle?"

"All right," the man said.  He climbed out of his row and approached the machine.  "Oy, you pretty little metal birds.  If you know so much, how many brothers do I have?"

"I'm sorry sir," Obadiah said.  "But the Oracle can only answer 'yes' or 'no' questions."

"Yes or no?" the man asked.  "All right.  Is my father still alive?"

Tony hesitated, then pushed the middle pedal.  

"The copper bird says that the answer is unclear," Obadiah explained.  The skeptic snorted and turned around to the crowd to roll his eyes.  "What in the bloody hell does that mean?" 

"It means that the Oracle does not know," Obadiah said.  The crowd gasped, and Tony could see their belief begin to waver.  "Please, ask another question." 

"This is batty," the man said.  "It's a sham.  What, you want me to ask if me wife is making me a cuckold?" 

Tony stepped down on the left pedal.  The crowd gasped as the bird sang out the affirmative.  The man just stood there with his mouth hanging open. 

"The Oracle says yes," Obadiah said, gravely. 

The man swallowed hard.  "Is it my neighbor?"

The silver bird sang 'no'.

"One of me brothers?"

Brass bird sang 'yes'.

"Alfie?"

Brass bird again.

The man twirled around and pointed at a young woman in the audience.  "You lying trollop!" he yelled.  "Making me a cuckold with me own brother?"

"Martin, please," the young woman begged.  "You went to Newcastle to find work.  I thought you weren't coming back!"

The man hurtled down the aisle as the young woman tried to escape.  She made it to the opposite end of the row, picked up her skirts, and ran for the back of the tent, barely making it out before her husband caught her.  The crowd in the tent heard the man's yells and the woman's eventual screams of protest.  It was horrible and titillating at the same time.  And a disproven skeptic just made the crowd believe that much more.

The closed the show soon after, promising that people could come back later to see the second show if they had questions. Zeke herded them out of the tent and closed the door after them, turning back to his father.  Four figures entered the tent from the rear, Pepper, Whitney, and Owen Martin, one of the men who worked shill for them.

"I see you escaped your cuckolded husband without a mark on you?" Zeke said, nodding at his sister.

"I'm just too quick for 'im," Whitney said with a grin. 

"You did a good job, both of you," Obadiah said.  He grabbed Pepper’s hand.  "And you, my dear, are perfection as usual."

"Oh, Obadiah," she said, trying to pull her hand away.  Only Tony know how much the older man disgusted her..

"Good job, Zeke," Obadiah continued.  "You have the makings of a real showman."

Zeke preened under his father's praise.  "Thank you."

"Tony."

"Yes Obie?"

"Make sure everything is ready for the next show.  We'll need to round up a couple more shills."   

Well.  That was that, then.

*

The second show went smoothly.  Rumors of the disproven skeptic had filtered throughout the crowd, and the tent was even more packed as people vied to see the Great Oracle.   Herbert, who spent his days looking after the animals, was told that his daughter would marry the son of a wealthy merchant, bringing tears to his practiced eye.  Pepper helped them con a young woman who doubted her lover, and Whitney helped them fool an old tailor.  The crowd was as awed as ever, but Tony could not look at the evening with any sort of pride.

In fact would have been considered another in a long list of boring and disappointing evenings until the the crowd started to pour out of the tent.  Tony looked over and his heart stopped.  Standing just inside the tent door, staring straight at him and wearing a face of complete disappointment, was Steven.   Tony tried to walk over to him, but Steven, Philip, and another young man ducked out of the tent before he had a chance to move.

"Steven!  Wait!" he exclaimed, pushing his way to the tent flaps.  He saw the three men through the doorway, hurrying towards the main entrance.

"What are you on about, Tony?" Zeke asked, grabbing him by the shoulder.  He pushed Tony back toward the main stage.  "Father'll want you to give the machine a once-over before you leave."

"I'll come back," Tony said, struggling against his brother.  "Just let me--"

"Tony!" Obadiah barked.  "Stop your foolishness and get over here."

The tent flaps closed as heavily as an iron door, and Tony knew that once again, Obadiah had cost him something he wanted.


	4. More New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time, but I wanted to get in an update.

In the wake of the revelation at the carnival, Philip was at a loss for how to deal with a moping Steven.  The young man spent the next few days wandering around the Natural Science museum, lingering over magnificent specimens and filling his sketchbook.  Philip followed him, worried at how listless and quiet his young charge seemed.  While he was glad that any burgeoning relationship between Steven and the Stark boy had been nipped in the bud, he hated to see Steven so sad.  Sarah Rogers had wanted Steven to settle down, not break his spirit.

He was about to head off to the carnival and track Tony down and demand an explanation when Steven made yet another new friend.  Philip was waiting while Steven sketched a conch shell when he saw two men enter the gallery together, pointing out interesting items and laughing softly together.

They made it to Steven and stopped.  The shorter of the two sat down next to Steven on the bench.

"You are truly an artist," the man said to Steven. 

Steven's head whipped up and he nearly dropped his pencil.  "Pardon me?" he asked.

"Your sketches.  They're quite good," the man said. 

"Thank you," Steven said, wariness evident in his voice.

The taller man, quite the opposite of his friend, shook his head.  "Please excuse Loki," he said.   "I assure you he means no harm, despite his abhorrent manners.  I am Thor, and he is Loki."  He held out his hand.

Steven took his hand after a slight hesitation.  "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said.  "My name is Steven."

"Oooh, you're a Yank," Loki said, a gleam in his eye. 

"If you mean American, then yes I am.  New York, actually," Steven said.

"New York?  How delightful," Loki said.  "You must tell us all about it.  I hear they have airships larger than any we've constructed here.  Is everything steam-powered there?  Have you visited other places in your nation?    Have you had lunch?"

Steven stared at him with confusion and a little bit of awe.  He didn't quite know how to respond.  As if on cue, Steven's stomach rumbled.  "No sir, I have not had lunch."  That seemed to be the only question he could answer at that moment.

"How about this?  Thor and I will finish this section of the exhibits, and we'll stop by and pick you up once you've completed your sketch?" Loki said.  "Now, I really won't hear any excuses.  You are just too intriguing to let get away."  He rubbed his hands together in glee.

Steven sent a slightly panicked look to Philip.  "May I invite my friend Philip?  He's over there skulking about in the shadows."

Loki and Thor looked over at the older man.  "Of course!  The more the merrier," Loki assured.  "So you get back to sketching, and we won't be long."  He gave Steven a merry wave and dragged his friend off to the next gallery.

"What just happened?" Steven asked, looking at Philip. 

"I'm not sure," Philip said.  "But I think we have lunch plans."

"Huh," Steven said.  "I suppose I had better finish this, then."  He returned to his work, studying the shell with fierce concentration.  The only thing that gave any hint at the new course for the day was a slight smile tugging at his mouth. 

Philip chuckled.  The two men might be slightly insane, but at least Steven didn't look like he'd just lost his puppy.

 

The pub looked like the sort of place that Bucky would frequent, which was no sort of endorsement.  The barmaids were comely enough, and Steven supposed the smells wafting out of the kitchen were somewhat mouthwatering.

"Thor and I prefer the company here to the undereducated and overly-pampered gentry that one finds in the more respectable establishments," Loki explained.

"Let's leave my cousins out of this," Thor joked.  He led them through the main room.

"Your family is connected?" Philip asked, dodging a flying mug, luckily empty.

"Thor's mother is the younger sister of the Marquess of Southampton," Loki explained.

"The much poorer, much younger sister who married a great, bloody Viking," Thor explained with a wry grin.  "The rest of the family was less than welcoming."

Thor secured a table in a shadowy corner while Loki ordered meat pies and pitchers of ale from the barman.  Philip placed himself where he could see the door, and let Steven cram himself into an awkward corner, well out of harm's way.

"So American," Loki said, settling into a chair.  "What brings you to London?"

"Grand Tour," Steven said.  "Well, whichever stops on the Grand Tour have historical or artistic merit.  I'm quite interested in history, you see."

"Marvelous!" Loki said, with a huge grin.  "As am I.  Thor here is not much of a scholar, but I do not hold that against him.  Are you planning to attend Doctor Ludlow's lecture on the Roman ruins he discovered in Cornwall?"

"I had not heard of it," Steven said.  "What sort of ruins?"

"It seems to be a residential ruin, with some intact mosaics and frescoes," Loki said, his eyes glinting with anticipation.  "We shall see," Loki said, shrugging.  "Are you available on Tuesday next?"

"Most assuredly," Steven said.  "I would love to attend."

"Wonderful," Loki cheered.  "Now, what trouble can we get into in the mean time?"

 

Steven filled his days with trips and outings with the two men.  Loki procured tickets to several lectures and demonstrations, all very edifying and only slightly sensationalistic.  Thor balanced things out with showing Steven and Bucky more earthly diversions such as horse races and boxing exhibitions.  He and Bucky were becoming fast friends as much as Steven and Loki.  Loki even invited Steven back to his own library to see his collections.

Loki's own interests ran to the Vikings and their voyages to Britain.  He was by their mythology, and had a gallery attached to his library in which he displayed small artifacts he had acquired.

"This little fellow is from a site in Essex," Loki said, holding up a small golden bauble, inlaid with colored stones.  "The gentlemen who sold it to me said that it is part of a sword scabbard."

"It's lovely," Steven said, leaning in to take a closer look. 

"My father doesn't quite understand my love of history," Loki confided.  "He's in industry, you know.  With the rising cost of ice harvesting, he's developing better methods of refrigeration.  He's made a fortune."

"And he wants you to follow after?" Steven asked. 

"Indeed.  But deep down, he knows I'm not a businessman.  I'd much rather be here, or out with Thor."

"You've been friends for quite some time, yes?" Steven asked.

"Since school.  My father could afford to send me to the best schools, but he didn't have enough money to make people forget I'm the son of a tradesman," Loki said, with a pained chuckle.  "But Thor didn't seem to mind.  We've been friends ever since."

The made the rounds as Loki showed off more of his artifacts, and then exited out into the garden.  The space was lovely, and one of the most beautiful traditional English gardens Steven had seen.  There were a few strange blooms here and there, but mostly it was laid out in a vibrant, but familiar, rainbow.

Loki stopped in front of a series of beds.  He took a pair of garden shears from a bench and knelt down.  He clipped off blooms from a hydrangea bush, and then snipped a handful of purple irises. 

"For Thor' mother," he explained.  "The Odinsons don't have the extensive gardens that they once did.  I try to bring her flowers whenever I visit."

"That's very kind of you," Steven said, taking an armful of blooms from his friend.

"Hmmm, pink roses, I think," Loki said, walking over to his rosebushes.  "They have been kind to me.  As I said, most of the people in their social circles would look down on someone whose money comes from trade.  But they have welcomed me with open arms, and not for my money."

"I'm sure they are happy that Thor has such a good friend," Steven said.  It boggled his mind that people might look down on someone who had built their own fortune.

"Indeed.  We are the best of friends," Loki said, smiling.

 

           

The Odinson household was run with a gentle, but firm hand.  The servants, what few Steven saw, were both cheerful and respectfully affectionate towards the family.  Heimdall, the butler, greeted them at the front door.  He took their coats and hats, and led them to a small parlor where they found Lady Frigga and her maid.

"Loki!" Lady Frigga said, rising to greet them.  She pulled Loki into a warm hug.  "You've brought me flowers, you dear boy.  And who is this giant?"

"My lady," Loki said.  He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and handed her the flowers.  "This is Steven Rogers, our American.  He has been joining us on our excursions."

"Ah, the famed American," Lady Frigga said, beaming.  "Come sit, both of you.  Wallis, can you please ring for tea?"  She handed the maid the bouquet as well.

Lady Frigga's maid went to order their repast while they settled onto the sofas.  Steven had his normal problem of fitting on furniture made for people a foot shorter than he was, but Thor was even taller than Steven and if he fit, Steven could find a way.

"Mr. Rogers, how do you find London?" Lady Frigga asked.

"Much more intriguing since meeting Loki and your son," Steven admitted.  "They have been quite kind in showing the uncultured American around."

"Nonsense," Loki said.  "He has rescued us from utter boredom."

"My Thor speaks highly of you, Mr. Rogers," Lady Frigga said.  "He says that you have an artist's eye and a good heart."

"He is too kind," Steven said, trying to will away the blush he was certain covered his cheeks.  "Where is he?"

Lady Frigga's smile dimmed.  "He is with his father, taking care of some business," she explained.  "They should return soon."

"And until then, we'll have tea and cakes," Loki said with a warm smile, deftly changing the subject. 

"Will you be joining Loki, Thor, and my husband at the museum exhibition on Friday evening?" Lady Frigga asked. 

It was Steven's turn to be uncomfortable.  "I have not decided," he said.  "Philip and Bucky mentioned other plans."

"Of course you will join us," Loki said.  "Thor's Father will be in his glories.  The entire museum staff is acting as if they uncovered the answers of the ages."

"Perhaps they have," Steven said.  "My understanding is that they will have many ancient technological wonders."

"Are you interested in mechanics?" Lady Frigga asked. 

"Not particularly," Steven said.  "But ancient cultures can be quite intriguing."

"You sound just like Loki and my husband," Lady Frigga said. 

Sands interrupted them with another visitor.  "My lady, Lady Oxford and her son, Baron Hammer are here to see you."

"We shall take our leave, then," Loki said, rising to his feet.

"Nonsense," Lady Frigga said, her mouth set in a straight line.  "You are welcome in our home any time, Loki."

A rather imposing woman walked into the room, followed by a young man in very fashionable clothing.  Lady Frigga rose, and curtsied. 

"Lady Oxford, how lovely to see you," she said.

"Frigga, you are looking well," the older woman said. 

"Hullo their Loki," Baron Hammer said, a smirk on his lips.

"Hammer," Loki said.  His jaw was rigid and Steven noticed how white his knuckles appeared.  "Lady Oxford.  You are as lovely as ever."

Steven wouldn't have used the word 'lovely' to describe her.  Formidable.  Frightening.  Fierce.  But not lovely.

"Ah, Mr. Laufeyson," Lady Oxford said, disdain dripping from her lips.  "I suppose you are here to drag Thor off onto one of your scientific excursions?"

"Actually, Loki brought me flowers from his gardens," Lady Frigga said.  "And he brought their new friend to meet me.  May I introduce Steven Rogers, from New York?"

Lady Oxford turned to Steven and looked him up and down.  It finally occurred to Steven just who she reminded him of—his first teacher back home.  She'd been a handsome woman, though hard.  And she'd made his knees quake in fear, much like Lady Oxford.

"Ma'am," he said, nodding politely. 

"Frigga, you do keep the most interesting company these days," Lady Oxford said, managing to sneer while still sounding polite.  "One never knows who one might find in your parlor.  Tell me, Mr. Rogers.   What does your family do?"

"My family owns several cloth factories and part of a bank, ma'am.  He supplies uniforms to the army," Steven said. 

"Indeed," Lady Oxford said.  "How nice."  She turned back to Lady Frigga, making it quite clear that Steven no longer mattered.

Steven looked away and noticed Baron Hammer smirking at him.  Loki looked ready to commit murder, and Lady Frigga's nostril flared a tiny bit, which Steven took as support for him.

Wallis broke up the uncomfortable silence by returning with tea.  She placed it in front of Lady Frigga, who poured out for all of her guests.  Steven took the delicate cup into his large hands, and was reminded of playing tea with one of his cousins and her child-sized tea set.  Loki handed him a cake and they concentrated on the excellent pastry as opposed to the rude guests.

Lady Oxford was the worst sort of guest, in Steven's opinion.  She dominated the conversation, only allowing her son or Lady Frigga a chance to speak when she asked them a question.  Steven and Loki exchanged miserable glances every once in a while, especially when she launched into a tirade on the dangers of young women showing more than an inch of skin at parties. 

"They can look at my son all they want," she ranted.  "But no trollop will ever carry the title of Lady Oxford.  I will not stand for it." 

Even her son rolled his eyes.

Finally, they were saved by Mr. Odinson and Thor, who joined them in time to take the last two tea cakes.

"Everything went well?" Lady Frigga asked, settling her husband and son on either side of her on the settee. 

"Of course, m'dear," Mr. Odinson said. 

Thor introduced Steven to his father, who was nearly as warm as Lady Frigga in his greeting.  He launched into a discussion of the Egyptian exhibit, and was earnest in his entreaties for Steven to join them.  The discussion turned to science and history, and Steven's travels.  It was quite obvious that Lady Oxford was unhappy to have the conversation moved from her list of approved topics, but she managed a stilted smile, nonetheless.  It was soon apparent, however, that the shift would speed up her departure, much to Steven and Loki's relief.

"Frigga, Odin.  I believe we shall take your leave," she said, during a lull in the conversation.

"Lady Oxford, I do apologize.  The men do get carried away with their interests," Lady Frigga said.  It was obvious she wasn't too sorry, however.

"You are too kind," Lady Oxford said.  "Will we see you at Bolton's card party on Wednesday?"

"Perhaps," Lady Frigga said.  "We haven't decided."

"Ah well," Lady Oxford said.  "You may be safer staying away.  Bolton and his cronies can be ruthless players, and they only play for high stakes."

Steven saw Mr. Odinson and Lady Frigga stiffen slightly.  Thor and Loki looked as if they were ready to leap over and throttle the woman. 

"Indeed," Lady Frigga said.  "I'm sure you and your husband are much more their sort of guest."

It was Lady Oxford's turn to stiffen.  "Justin and I will show ourselves out."  They made a quick, yet still decorous, exit.

"I'm not sure who I dislike more, that cow or her son," Loki said, once they were alone.

"What just happened?" Steven asked. 

"Their family is quite well off," Mr. Odinson said, rubbing his chin.  "And they make a point of letting us know that we're not."

"Our title is centuries older than theirs," Thor said.  His handsome face was marred by a scowl.

"That title died with my father, Thor," Mr. Odinson said.  "I have no need of it.  I have my family and that is all I need."  His wife smiled and took his hand in hers.

"If it makes you feel better, at least she looked at you," Steven said.  "Then again, she didn't talk to me either, so maybe I win?"  He grinned at Thor's parents, and they laughed. 

"It is official now," Loki said, throwing an arm around Steven's shoulders.  "You're part of the family.  That means you have to go with us to the exhibition."

"I suppose I do," Steven said. 

           

            


	5. Rising From the Ashes of Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short update today. Next chapter should be pretty long and will have some action.

For Tony, salvation came in the form of a letter from Jarvis.  His old friend had left the workshop in the country and made his way to London.  He didn't dare risk coming to the carnival himself, so he sent a messenger to find Tony and ask him to visit the airfield west of town.  The carnival was closed on Sunday, so Tony headed off early that morning before Obadiah or his family was up and about.

Hounslow Heath was the site of London's largest airfield.  When Tony arrived, he marveled at the vast number of ships that dotted the landscape.  He bypassed the commercial ships, hulking behemoths that blocked out the sun, and headed for the private berths to the north.  Once there, he had no trouble finding his greatest creation, a shining jewel in a midst of dull gray.

Tony had designed _Phoenix_ during his last sojourn at the workshop.  Her sleek lines stood out from other ships, as did her flashy red and gold exterior.  It had killed him to leave her behind when Obadiah came to retrieve him, but there was no way Obie would have let him keep her.  She would have been auctioned off to the first person with enough money they could find.  So Tony had given her to Jarvis, a gift of thanks to the man who had helped Tony hone his talent.

Jarvis had in turn, used the _Phoenix_ to facilitate his own endeavors as an amateur scholar, traveling around Europe researching language and literature.  If he happened to make a little side money smuggling various articles, that was neither here nor there.

Tony found Jarvis sitting outside of the ship in a folding chair reading the paper.  His assistant, Parker, was preparing tea over a small fire, humming to himself.  Tony couldn't help the enormous grin that broke out on his face.

"Hullo sir," he said, jogging up to the fire. 

"Tony!  Lad, it is good to see you," Jarvis said, rising to his feet.  He ignored Tony's outstretched hand and pulled him into an embrace.  "I have been worried about you.  Has Stane let up at all?"

"Not a bit," Tony said.  "It will be his own fault when I finally make a break of it."

"Aye," Jarvis said.  "And when might that be?  Do you have the money saved up yet?"

"No sir," Tony admitted.  "But, I could afford a horse, perhaps, and a cart.  That way I could travel and take whatever jobs I can find.  And once I have a little funding, I could build something a little more suitable."

Jarvis's face contorted in distaste.  "I'm sure we can come up with something better than a smelly horse and cart," he said.  "You can come and work with me."

"I could not impose," Tony said, raising his hands in protest.  "You have been too kind to me already."

"Nonsense," Jarvis said.  "At least take _Phoenix_."

"I could not," Tony said.  "She is yours."  He tried to tamp down the feeling of elation at Jarvis's offer.

"Now, son, we both know I have only been holding her for you," Jarvis said.  "She belongs with you.  Hell, she never runs as good as when you're at the controls."

"But I could not afford to fly her," Tony said, with a wistful smile.  "No, she deserves to be with someone who can keep her up.  But I thank you for the offer," he added.

"I will not rest until she's with her proper master," Jarvis replied.  "And to make that happen, we need to get you settled into your studies.  Since I know you will not let me help you out with the money, at least let me help you get started.  You say you have enough for a horse and cart?"

"Yes sir," Tony replied.  "I bought my tools myself, other than those you gave to me, so there is no guilt in taking them with me."

"You should have no guilt at all," Jarvis said, frowning.  "Obadiah Stane has abused your good nature for too long.  It is time you are on your own."

"Thank you sir."

"Now, the neighbor back home has a draft horse for sale, and I think we could come up with a wagon from the gear at your father's workshop.  All that is missing is you.  When do you think you will be ready to leave?" he asked.

"Yesterday?" Tony said.  "Truthfully, I would stay to finish out the London run of the show, and then I will be ready to leave.  They should be able to fill their coffers enough to make it through the foreseeable future, as long as Obadiah keeps Zeke from gambling it all away."

"When is your last date?" Jarvis asked.                           

"This Saturday," Tony said.  "I am going to an exhibition with Mr. Banner on Friday night, and I can bring my things over on Saturday.  Then I can leave right after the show."

"Will you tell them beforehand?" Jarvis asked.

"No.  They will find some way to stop me if I do," Tony said.  "And it will be easier to keep you out of it."

"I am willing to take on Stane if need be," Jarvis protested. 

"I know, and I appreciate it," Tony said.  "But I'd like to keep it from coming to that."

"Duly noted."

 

He started with his notebooks.  He got up early in the morning and packed them into a crate.  Parker met him near the carnival to take the crate and a few other small belongings to begin ferrying them to _Phoenix_.  On the next morning, he packed up some of his small devices and more obscure tools, keeping anything that he might need in case of a problem with The Great Oracle. 

He spent the rest of his time divided between working on the large machine and conferring with Mr. Banner.  The young scholar had managed to get a list of objects in the exhibition, and the two men pored over it to make sure that they did not miss any items of interest.  When Mr. Banner needed to return to his studies, Tony devoted himself to making sure the machine was in top condition.  While he did not wish to remain a slave to Obadiah, he did not particularly wish them ill, and he wanted to do as much as possible to ensure at least Pepper's wellbeing. 

He informed Obadiah that he needed to be off for the Friday evening shows, to complete some research for a new machine.  While Obie complained and did his best to make Tony feel guilty, he acquiesced in the end.  Tony spent Friday afternoon showing Owen how to run the machine, even going so far as to show him how to make basic repairs.  It wasn't much, but it would probably keep the machine in use for months to come.

Tony left early to meet Mr. Banner at his rooms.  Mr. Banner lived in a modest flat near the museum, above a milliner.  The rooms were quiet and cozy, which seemed heavenly to Tony.  Whenever he visited, he left feeling somewhat jealous of Mr. Banner' situation. 

Mr. Banner was waiting for him, already attired in his evening dress.  Tony had no appropriate clothes of his own, but Mr. Banner had offered to lend him attire.  Tony changed into borrowed finery, and the two men grabbed a steam coach to the museum. 

Tony paused outside of the museum.  The people streaming in were dressed in the finest clothes, and the women had gems draped all over them.  Tony was certain that someone would take one look at him and have him removed, but Mr. Banner showed their invitation, and they were granted entrance with only a bit of a raised eyebrow.

Mr. Banner grabbed a copy of the exhibit catalogue, and pulled Tony over to one side.  They pored over the listings, until they saw the stone tablets that Mr. Banner's friend had described.  They bypassed the large buffets of food, much to his stomach's consternation, and entered a series of exhibit rooms. 

Tony found the tablets in question in the corner of one of the smaller rooms.  Mr. Banner took out his pencil and notebook and began to sketch the carved stone.  The two colleagues were discussing a particularly ambiguous translation when Tony heard raised voices behind him.  He turned and for one moment, he couldn't keep the joy from his heart.

It was Steven.

           

           

           

 

           


	6. A Night at the Museum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some action!

It was a fine June evening, warm without being hot, with clear skies and a slight breeze.  The Great Court of the British Museum glowed with the seeming thousands of the new steam-powered electric lights strung up above them, crisscrossing the sky like shooting stars.  There were large buffets set out around the Reading Room, and staff milled about providing the elegant assembly with glasses of punch and wine.  If Steven had felt small on his first visit to the large complex, he now felt both small and under-dressed.

Unlike the previous scholarly functions he had attended, there were as many ladies in fashionable evening wear as there were academics and professors.  Loki explained that many of the wealthy families were patrons of the museum, and they attended the premieres of the exhibitions as if they were just another event in the Season.  

Thor’s father had been invited because his father had left a legacy to the museum, which insured that his heirs would always have access to the collections.  Unfortunately, he had stayed at home that evening with a chill.  Thor, to Loki’s glee and Steven’s mortification, had asked Bucky to accompany them in his father’s stead.  He had left them as soon as they entered, intent on young ladies and free food.

Steven and Bucky wore what passed as evening dress back in New York, but Steven felt dowdier than the servants.  Loki and Thor assured him that no one would think anything of it, but he caught the sidelong glances from several of the women in attendance.  

“That one,” he said, gesturing at a woman who looked to be in her early thirties.  “She won’t stop staring.  I knew I should have gone to a tailor.”

“Steven, that’s Lady Ward.  She’s looking at you because her husband is seventy years old and half your size.  She’s much less worried about the cut of your jacket than what’s underneath it,” Loki said, a smirk dancing over his lips.  

Steven bit down a squawk.  “I would never--”

“Loki, stop it,” Thor said, and then sighed.  “Steven, I’m sure the ladies think you cut a dashing figure, in the most chaste of ways.  I believe the two of you wanted to go see the tablets.”

Loki chuckled and Steven blushed, which seemed to be the normal way of things of late.  They trailed after Thor as he made his way through the exhibition rooms, intent on a small room near the back.

Loki started at one side of the door, and began to slowly make his way around the perimeter of the room.  Steven paused just inside the door to get his bearings, and see if there was anything beyond stone tablets and scrolls to pique his interest.  Soon enough, he found that there was.

In the far corner, two men stood in front of a tablet, one making quick sketches and the other one explaining something with quick gestures.  Steven gasped as he recognized the second man.  He knew the worn hands and the strong shoulders because he had first seen them in this very museum.  It was Tony.

He shouldn’t have been surprised; Tony was the person to first tell him about this exhibition, after all.  But when he had learned just how difficult it was to get an invitation, he had thought himself safe from the man.  Tony was nothing more than a trickster, a confidence man.  Steven wondered how he had gotten in, and who he had conned now.

The best guess was the young man with him.  He was slightly shorter than Tony, with dark, messy hair.  Steven felt a sharp stab of jealousy when the young man said something that made Tony throw back his head and laugh, but Steven pushed it down.  It was easier to be irate that Tony had conned someone else.  

Steven squared his shoulders and prepared to go and give Tony a piece of his mind when Loki touched his arm.  He looked over at the his friend, who was shaking his head.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Thor asked.  “Philip mentioned that you’d had a run-in with someone who abused your good nature, and that you’d met here.”

“What else did he say?” Steven gritted out.  

“That the man was a confidence artist,” Thor said, with a shrug.  “And not worthy of your time.  Don’t let him ruin your evening.  As soon as Loki is done with his tablets and scrolls, we can leave.”

“He’s over there taking advantage of some new person,” Steven protested.  “I cannot in good conscience allow that to happen.”

Their discussion had reached a volume that other people in the room took notice.  Most especially, Tony and his friend turned around.  For one brief moment, Tony smiled in delight, but when he saw Steven’s countenance, his expression shut down and he leaned over to say something to his companion.

He walked toward Steven, hands out in a placating gesture.  “Steven, please let me explain,” he began.  

“Explain what?” Steven snarled.  “You’re a charlatan.  All of your fine words about using your gifts for the betterment of man, and you’re really just using them to line your pockets?  Is that what you wish to explain?”

“Steven, I have obligations--”  
“I don’t care,” Steven said.  “Whatever it is, I don’t care.  I just care that you’re lying to this poor man as well.”  He gestured to Tony’s companion.  “Using him to get you in?”

“Just a moment,” the man said.  “I am quite aware of Tony’s past and his circumstances.  More so, I believe, than you.  So do not bother yourself on my account, and leave us be.”

“Let’s all calm down,” Thor said, laying his hand on Steven’s arm.  “Steven, come along.  We’ll let these gentlemen get back to their studies.”

Steven wanted to wrench away from his friend.  He wanted to grab Tony by the shoulders and shake him.  He wanted to demand to know why someone of Tony’s talents would use them to fool poor, uneducated people.  But he did none of those things.  He listened to his friend and he walked away.  They left Loki to study scrolls and went to get a glass of something strong.

Steven found a quiet spot behind a display and leaned against the wall, tipping his head back to rest on the cool stone.  Seeing Tony again had stirred up all of his emotions.  He shouldn’t be so bothered; they had only known each other for a matter of days before Steven found out about Tony’s lies.  But he had felt an immediate kinship with the other man, and he had to admit, an attraction.  He supposed that he looked young and naive, and perhaps he was.  Philip had warned him, but Steven had only seen good in Tony’s smile and his pretty words.

And now Tony was here with that other man.  A man, Steven had to admit, who was handsome, and seemed quite protective of Tony.  A man who spoke as if he came from an educated family, at least, and possibly one of some circumstance.  A man who hadn’t appeared to be concerned with Tony’s activities.  Someone Tony could talk to and be honest with.  Steven closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall.

“Are you more concerned that he’s here, or that he’s here with someone else?” Thor asked, settling beside him.  

Steven’s eyes flew open.  “I don’t know what you mean?” Steven said, barely able to keep from shrieking.

“Steven, you can’t fool me,” Thor said.  “You weren’t talking to a mere acquaintance in there.  You were speaking like a scorned lover.”

“That’s preposterous,” Steven said.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.  Such things are illegal.  You can be hung for that back home.   My mother would not be able to live with such shame.  And... and...  my priest says it is unnatural!”

Thor looked at him for several long moments.  “I notice you’re most worried about the legality than any nonsensical worry about ‘unnatural’ acts,” he said.  “England has not put anyone to death for sodomy in over forty years.  And I am in no position to pass judgment.”  He said the last bit quietly.

Steven’s jaw dropped.  “You?  Are you...?  Does Loki know?” he asked.  

Thor threw back his head and laughed.  “I should think he does,” he said.  

That meant that...

“You and Loki?” Steven asked, his eyes wide.  

“Indeed,” Thor said.  “We have been close since we were in school.  We were both miserable there, both outcasts.  We found comfort in each other.”

Steven had no idea what to say.  He knew he should be appalled, but that would be hypocritical.  Thor and Loki had been nothing but kind, and Steven would not abuse their friendship, or their trust.

“I am happy that you found one another,” Steven said, carefully.  “But that has nothing to do with Tony and myself.”

“Indeed?” Thor asked.  “Then how do you explain your reaction to a man you knew for less than a week?  I saw how you looked at him, and heard how you spoke to him.  Steven, you do not have to hide anything from us.  Or is it that you are trying to hide it from yourself?”

Steven’s shoulders slumped.  “Myself,” he whispered.  “My family, they already have to listen to people gossiping about my scholarly bent, saying that my parents indulged me beyond all reason.  If our circle were to find out that I had other unnatural proclivities...”

“You have said that you wish to leave home,” Thor said.  “You wish to travel the world and study.  Surely once you are out from under their constant scrutiny, you can live your life as you wish?”

“And never go home again?” Steven asked.  

“No, just use discretion when you do,” Thor said.  “You had no idea about Loki and me, because we’re discreet.  You just have to learn to keep things close to your chest.”

“Perhaps,” Steven said.  “But that leaves the problem of finding someone.  I don’t have the same kind of situation you two had.  How does one even begin going about finding someone else with the same desires, let alone court them?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Loki said.  “It is a shame that your Tony turned out to be so untrustworthy.  He was most pleasing to look at.”

“And intelligent,” Steven said, miserably.  “And he did not laugh at me for being so clumsy and awkward.”  And he had felt so close to him.  It hurt to think about it.

“Are you sure there was no explanation for his actions that would put your mind at ease?” Thor asked.  “Not to argue, but if it came down to putting food on your family’s table, many people would ignore their high-minded principles.”

Steven thought about that for a moment.  He was able to pursue his interests because his family’s money allowed that.  He wondered what he would do if there wasn’t money for books and trips around Europe?  Would he do what he had to in order to help his family?  Even if it meant bastardizing his dreams?

“Either way, it’s done,” Steven said, finally.  “Had he been honest with me, I could accept his ‘profession’.  But he wasn’t.  I would never be sure if he was telling the truth, and he would always remember me accusing him of being a thief.”

“Perhaps,” Thor said.  “But perhaps not.  I think you should speak with him, away from all of this.  Away from his family and your Philip.  You don’t seem like a bad judge of character, Steven.  I mean, look who you’ve befriended!”  He gestured to himself with a wave of his hand and a gave Steven a beaming grin.  

“Mad men, apparently,” Steven said with a chuckle.  

Thor patted him on the shoulder and then pushed him back into the main space.  Loki had emerged from the scroll room, and was chatting with an older gentleman.  Steven glanced around, but found no sign of Tony or his friend.  

They joined Loki and made a quick trip to the buffet.  They settled around one of the small tables and listened to Loki wax poetic over the scrolls.

“It is most interesting,” he said.  “Most of the work is done in scroll form, but there were tablets found as well.  Steven, why did you leave?”

“The Egyptians were always carving things like that,” Thor said, with a bored wave, trying to change the subject.  

“But it seems that the scrolls were older than the tablets,” Loki explained.  “It’s as if the information on the tablet was more important, and the owner wanted to make sure it survived.  I would dearly love a rubbing of them.”  The last was said with a small sigh.

“You will have to make do with sketches,” Thor said.  

“If only I could draw,” Loki said.  “Steven, I don’t suppose you would do one for me?  You are a much better hand with a pencil.”

Steven looked up from his plate.  “Me?  I’m not that good.”

“Nonsense,” Thor said.  “We’ve seen your journal.  You’re quite the artist.  Please?  It might make Loki stop whinging.”

“I beg your pardon!” Loki said, his face marred by an indignant frown.  “I am not whinging.”

“Yes you are,” Thor said.  “And it is most unattractive.  Steven agrees.  Don’t you?”  Thor looked over at Steven with a teasing glint in his eye.

“I suppose I could manage a quick sketch or two,” Steven said, avoiding the question.  “Were the two men still in there when you left?”

“The ones you yelled at?” Loki asked.  “They had moved on to an exhibit of mechanical devices.”

“Well then, it is safe to return,” Steven said.  He stood and brushed the crumbs from his hands.  “I’ll go make your sketches.”

“You don’t have to hurry,” Loki said, slightly abashed.  “Please finish your meal.”

“I’m quite finished,” Steven said.  “We weren’t quite sure what would be served, so Bucky and I ate at our rooms before we joined you.”

“Then how does Bucky have room for that mountainous plate of food?” Loki asked, gesturing at the other American, who was ensconced, along with said plate, between two giggling young women.

“I have long ceased trying to explain Bucky,” Steven said.  “I’ve found that to be the safest option.”

He departed to his friends’ laughter.  He dodged around a group of middle-aged wives and re-entered the small exhibition room.  He found two of the curators discussing the tablets in question with a third man, an obviously wealthy patron.  One of the curators had unlocked the iron cage in which the tablet resided, and removed it to a small table.  The other was pointing out notable features, even going so far as to flip it on its back to show more markings.

“Excuse me,” Steven said.  The three men looked over at him.  “Would it be possible to do a quick sketch of the back?  Since it is already out of the case.”

“And just who are you,” the patron asked.  “This is a private conversation.”

“Sir, I’m merely an interested viewer,” Steven explained.  “And a bit of an artist.  I am doing the sketch as a favor to my host this evening.”

“And who might that be,” one of the curators asked.  

“Mr. Odinson, and his son Thor,” Steven explained.  

“Mr. Odinson’s family has been most generous,” the curator said, frowning.  “Very well, you may stand over there and sketch while we finish showing the tablet to Lord Oxford.”

“You are too kind,” Steven said, taking out his notebook and pencil.  He remembered Lady Oxford from her visit to the Odinson’s.  Her husband looked to be just about as friendly.

Steven stood far enough away to be out of their sight, but close enough to see the tablet.  He made a quick sketch, and then turned to a fresh sheet of paper for a more detailed version.  Lord Oxford lost interest, and excused himself, but the curators were kind enough to allow Steven to finish.  Once the tablet was secured again, he proceeded to copy the front and side markings of the tablet.  

One of the curators stayed behind to show Steven the second tablet, taking it from the cage and allowing him to sketch.  Steven knew that Loki would be beyond pleased with the sketches, and he could not wait to show his work to his friend.

The curator had just finished locking the cage when they heard loud noises coming from the Great Court, followed by people screaming.  Steven tucked his notebook away and hurried to the door, worried for his friends.  

The scene that greeted them brought Steven up short.  Hovering above the Great Court was an enormous air ship.  Airships were forbidden from venturing past the outskirts of town, which would have made the sight odd enough.  But stranger still were the long ropes suspended from the gondola.  Steven saw men descending along the ropes, with guns slung across their backs.

In the Great Court, attendees and museum staff huddled in clumps, overseen by even more of the armed men.  Thor and Loki were hunched down behind a buffet table, and Bucky was...  Oh Lord.  Bucky was yelling at one of the armed men.  Two young women cowered behind him, and a third one--the smart one--was trying to slip away and into the crowd.  The armed man finally raised his weapon and knocked Bucky out with the rifle butt.

Steven tried to surge forward, to go to his friend, but strong hands pulled him back into the exhibit.

“You cannot help your friend if you are dead,” the owner of the hands whispered.  Steven recognized the voice, even in the din.  Tony.

“I am not afraid of them,” Steven whispered back.  He tried to move again, but Tony’s hands were strong.  

“Then you are a fool,” Tony said.  “These men are here for some nefarious purpose, and they do not strike me as men who would hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way.”

Steven gulped.  “But Bucky...” he managed, weakly.

“Bucky will be fine.  And he is much safer unconscious, where his mouth cannot get him into more trouble,” Tony said, a wry smile on his lips.  

Steven reluctantly agreed.  “Why are they here?”

“I do not know,” Tony said.  He grabbed Steven and moved behind a display case, which gave them cover while allowing them to see what happened.  “This exhibition contains materials found in a recently discovered laboratory.  From what little he has been able to decipher so far, Mr. Banner thinks it may have belonged to an ancient scientist called Heron.”

“And this ancient scientists works are worth killing for?” Steven asked.  He didn’t ask who Mr. Banner was, even though it killed him not to.

“Heron was brilliant,” Tony explained.  “We are still learning things from his treatises on pneumatics and steam power.  And some of his contemporaries wrote about his experiments into the darker uses of science.”

“What, like using science to trick people into turning over their money in a confidence scheme?” Steven asked, unable to resist the dig.

Tony’s shoulders hunched in defeat.  “I do hope you may someday give the chance to explain,” he said, quietly.  “But no.  More along the lines of weaponry.”

“Oh,” Steven said, letting the information sink in.  “You think these men think there is information about designing weapons in this exhibit?”

“They may,” Tony said, shaking his head.  “But Mr. Banner and I have found no schematics to speak of, and no one has managed to decipher enough of the writings to say one way or the other.”

The last of the men descended from the airship.  While most of the armed men were undisguised, the last of the men, obviously their leader, wore a lion-shaped mask like one would see at a fancy dress ball.  He ordered several of the men to follow him as he made his way towards the exhibition rooms.  

Just outside of the exhibition, one of the armed men brought the curator to Lion Mask.  The armed man demanded that the curator turn over the keys, but the curator refused.  Lion Mask pulled out a pistol and shot the curator between the eyes, causing several of the women to scream, and others to weep uncontrollably.  Lion Mask dug inside of the man’s jacket until he pulled out a familiar key ring.  He led his men into the exhibition just as Tony and Steven settled behind a sarcophagus.  

Lion Mask and his men entered the room with the scrolls and tablets, and after a few minutes punctuated by the sound of the cage doors swinging open, they returned with the tablets in hand.  They returned to the Great Court, where the rest of the armed cadre still held the attendees at gunpoint.  

The airship crew lowered a platform to the ground.  Lion Mask handed off the tablets, which were then hoisted up to the ship, along with half of his men.  Steven thanked God that no one had been killed, though Bucky would have a hell of a headache.  

They had almost escaped relatively unscathed when two of the armed men appeared at the back, behind the table where Thor and Loki were huddling.  The men grabbed Loki by the shoulders and pushed him towards the platform.  When he struggled, one of the men gave him the same treatment as Bucky, and they had to drag his unconscious form.  

Thor surged forward, yelling for his friend and brandishing a candelabra from the table.  Lion Mask raised his gun and fired, and Steven saw his friend stagger back.  He shook off Tony’s hands and raced toward the Great Court, arriving just as Lion Mask and his men were hoisted from the ground and up to the ship, along with Loki.

Steven hurried to Thor’s side.  His friend had struggled up to a sitting position, cradling his left arm to his body.  

“Loki!  Where is Loki?” he cried, tears streaming down his face.

“The man in the lion mask has taken him,” Steven said, kneeling down to look at the wound.  Thor reluctantly allowed Steven to remove his jacket.  Steven peeled back the shirt and sighed with a little relief.

“It went through the fleshy part of your arm,” he said.  “And exited.  You should be fine.”

“I will not be fine until I have Loki back,” Thor growled.  “I will hunt them down if I have to.”  He crawled to his knees and tried to stand.

“You can’t do this on your own,” Steven argued.  “We need to talk to the authorities.”

“Laufeyson isn’t important enough to matter to them,” Loki said.  “I have to go after him.”

Tony and his friend joined them.  “Do you have any idea why they might have taken him?” he asked.

“Loki is quite interested in history,” Steven explained.  “He is quite the amateur scholar.”

“He was always known for deciphering codes,” Thor said.  “He did not do so professionally, but he has been known to assist several scholars with deciphering ancient puzzles.”

Tony’s friend, Mr. Banner, frowned.  “Then they may have taken him hoping he can help them decipher the tablets,” he said.  “I can decipher the language, but if it is written in code, I don’t know that I will be of much help beyond that.”

“Do you think there really is some sort of dangerous knowledge hidden in the tablets,” Steven asked Tony.

“They seem to believe so,” Tony said.  “And I have seen the wonders of Heron’s work.  It would not surprise me to find that he’d turned his hand to making weapons at some point.”

“Then we have two goals,” Steven said.  “We need to rescue Loki and stop those men.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Mr. Banner asked.  

“I think I have an idea,” Tony said.  “Let us gather your Bucky and leave before we get tangled up with the authorities.”


	7. Bonds Broken, Bonds Forged, Bonds Renewed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since my last update. Here's a new chapter on offer as an apology :) Un-beta'd. All mistakes mine. All characters Marvel's.

Mr. Banner managed to hail a hired cab within two blocks of the museum.  Steve and Tony stuffed Bucky inside and then helped Thor climb into the carriage.  Steve settled the larger man back onto the threadbare cushions while Tony spoke to a young boy, sending him off on several errands.  After a brief discussion with Mr. Banner, the latter set off on foot, leaving them.  Tony gave directions to the driver and then climbed into the carriage.  They set off along a side street.

Inside the cab, Bucky began to stir while Steven fussed over Thor’s arm.  Thor was still distraught, and could barely keep still while Steve wrapped the tattered remains Thor’s shirt around the wound.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked.  He still didn’t trust Tony completely, but he had no idea where to start.  Tony seemed worldly enough to perhaps have a better idea.

“We’re stopping by the carnival first,” Tony said.  

Steve jerked upright.  “What?  Why?” he sputtered.

“I need to grab the rest of my belongings.  Then we’ll head to your lodgings and retrieve your belongings and Mr. Coulson,” Tony explained.

“Why do we need to retrieve our things?  Where are we going?”

“We are going to follow that ship,” Tony said.  His tone was simple and matter-of-fact.

“What about Thor?” Steven asked.  “He needs to have his wound seen by a doctor.”

“Jarvis can see to that.  He can get him back to his parents before we leave,” Tony said.

“No!” Thor yelled.  “You cannot leave me here.  I have to go with you and find my--Loki!”

Steve looked to see how Tony would react.  Tony’s face was nothing but sympathetic.

“You are wounded,” he said.  “We cannot move as quickly as we need to and still look after you.  I am sorry, but I give my word we will do everything in our power to save your friend.”

Thor’s face was a mask of determination.  “This is nothing.  Steven himself said that it only needs stitches.  I am coming with you, end of story.  I will send word to my family.  My father might not have money, but he has friends all over Europe.  I can be of help.”

Tony sighed, and looked at Steven.  Steven knew that Thor would get no rest if he stayed in London, and once he recovered he knew Thor could be of help.  He gave Tony a small smile and nodded.  Tony shook his head.

“All right,” he said.  “We’ll send word as soon as we get to the carnival.  But the more we delay, the more of a head start they will have.”

“How do you plan to follow them?” Steven asked.  All he had seen at the carnival were wagons and draft horses.  “And how will we know where they have gone?  And who is Jarvis?”

“As for where,” Tony began.  “Mr. Banner is looking into that.  He has several acquaintances that might be of assistance.”  Tony pulled back the curtain on the window.  “Jarvis is an old friend of my father’s.  He is well-traveled and familiar with the Continent.  And how?  Well, I’ll show you when we get there.”

  
*

“Anthony Edward Stark!  Where have you been?” Pepper shrieked.  Tony was stuffing the last of his clothing into a bag and looking around to see if there was anything else that he needed.  

“I can’t talk now, Pep,” he replied.  He tossed his bag out of the wagon to a waiting driver.  

The sight of luggage made Pepper pause.  “Where are you going?” she asked.  Her soft whisper was at complete odds with her earlier tone.  “You’re leaving me?”

“I’ll send for you when I’ve gotten sorted,” Tony promised.  “I have to help a friend first, but then Jarvis and I have plans for me to start off on my own.  Not this chicanery.  Real engineering.”

“But Obadiah…”

“Stane will have to make do with the machines I’ve already built.  And stop treating them so poorly,” Tony said.  He put a hand on Pepper’s shoulder.

“What do I tell him when you’ve left?” Pepper asked.  She looked down at her hands, but Tony could see tears running down her cheeks.  He had intended for her to go stay with Jarvis until he got settled.  She was like a sister to him, and he hated leaving her at Stane’s mercy.

“You tell him nothing.  You don’t know where I’ve gone, you’ve no idea if I’m coming back,” Tony said.  

“Not coming back?” said a deep voice over his shoulder.  “Now Tony, my boy, what makes you think you’re going to leave in the first place?”

Before he could turn around, he felt a strong blow to his back.  He fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath.  Pepper screamed and knelt down beside him, holding on to his arm.  The second blow was a kick to his side, knocking both he and Pepper over.  

“You ungrateful little bastard,” Obadiah growled.  “I’ve fed you and clothed you for years, and this is how you repay me?”

“All of that money came from me.  From my inventions, Stane.  Do not speak as if you were doing me a favor,” Tony managed to grit out.

Obadiah grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him up to his feet.  He drew his arm back preparing to backhand Tony across the face when he himself was struck from behind.  As he toppled to the ground, Tony saw the furious yet somehow startled face of Steven Rogers, holding a wrench like a cricket bat.

“Are you alright, Tony?” Steven asked.  His voice was deceptively calm.

“I’m…” Tony didn’t know how to answer that.  He coughed instead.  

Steven frowned down at Obadiah.  When the man twitched, Steven raised the wrench again.

“He’s down, Steven,” Tony said.  “Thank you.”  He laid his hand on Steven’s arm, and then took the wrench from his hands.

“You should leave now,” Pepper said.  “Before he wakes.”

“You have to come with us, Pepper,” Tony said, tucking the wrench into his bag.  “I won’t leave you here to face him.  Grab your things.”  

Pepper didn’t argue, just turned and ran for the wagon she shared with Obadiah’s daughter.  She returned within minutes, carrying a single bag.  

“Most of what I have is costumes.  I will never need them again,” she said, snarling down at Obadiah’s prone form.  She looked as if she was tempted to kick him.

“Then let us get out of here,” Tony said.  

Steven didn’t move.  He kept staring down at Stane with anger in his eyes.

“Steven, we need to go,” Tony said, his voice gentle.  He grabbed Steve by the shoulders and turned him towards the cab.  The younger man obediently allowed himself to be steered to the vehicle, and after Pepper had climbed inside, Tony and Steve followed her.  It was beginning to get crowded.

“Who is this,” Bucky asked.  He must have awakened while Tony was packing.

“Pepper Potts,” said the lady in question.  She held her hand out.  Bucky took it and after a warning glare from Tony, merely shook it.

“Fair lady, what brings you along with us,” Thor asked, grimacing as he adjusted himself on the bench seat.

“Our generous and kind boss,” Tony said, frowning.  “I can’t let him take his anger at me for leaving out on Pepper.”

“Of course not,” Thor agreed, nodding.  “Fair Miss Potts, you are most welcome.”

Pepper stared at Thor like he was one of the exhibits in the freak tent.  But her natural tact won out quickly, and she nodded her head in thanks.

“Now we need to acquire your things and your Philip, and we can head for Jarvis.  And we’ve sent word to the Odinsons to send your things along.  Will they be able to comply quickly?” Tony asked.

Thor nodded.  “My father and mother are most fond of Loki.  They will want him returned to us posthaste.”

“Good.  We’ll have him back as soon as we can.”

“I pray so, friend Tony.”

*

Philip stared at Steve as if he had grown a second head.  “You want to go where?  With Stark?”

Steven managed to keep his voice calm and even, if a little rushed.  “These villains have taken my friend, Philip.  I must do everything I can to see him returned safely.”

“For the moment, let us leave aside how dangerous this will be,” Philip said, pulling Steve away from the group.  “But you are trusting Stark?   You said it yourself, the man is a charlatan!”

Steven thought of the scene back at the carnival, of the angry, violent man who had assaulted Tony.  “I think, perhaps, there is more to the story than I at first believed,” he said, looking over at Tony, who was directing the inn’s servants carrying their luggage.  

“I think you want to believe there is more to the story,” Philip said.  “Steven, I cannot condone this.”  

“Then you can return to New York,” Steven snapped.  “I am not a child, Philip.  If you do not agree, then you need not worry yourself a moment longer.”  He pulled away from Philip and stalked from the room.

Tony followed him into the hallway.  “Your friend is worried.  He is right to be,” Tony said.

“He treats me like a child,” Steven said.  “My mother sent him to watch my every move.”

“I’m sure your mother sent him because she is worried about her only child,” Tony countered.  “Steven, I know you feel you need to do this, but he is right.  This will be dangerous.  Perhaps…”

“What?  You think I am useless too?” Steven asked.  “Just because I--”

“Will you two shut it?” Bucky said, interrupting them.  “Stark, Steven is too damned bullheaded to back down now.  Steven, will you at least show a little sense and cut Philip some slack for being worried?”

“Philip is more worried about my virtue than my safety,” Steven growled.  Tony had the grace to blush, but Bucky’s jaw dropped.  “Bucky, I--”

“Stark?  You have a thing for Stark?” Bucky whispered.  

“I--”

“Jesus, Steve.  You couldn’t fall for the rich, skinny one?” he asked.  He raked his hand through his hair.

Steve stopped.  He stared at his friend in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

Tony looked between the two of them and shook his head before making a speedy retreat.

“Steven, do you think I am stupid?” Bucky asked.  “You look like a startled deer whenever a young lady so much as approaches you.  You never look at them with admiration, not like I do.  Not like the rest of our friends do.”

“You do not think I am unnatural,” Steve asked, wringing his hands and staring at his feet.

“Well, are you in love with me?” Bucky asked.

“What?  No!” Steve replied, eyes wide open in alarm.  

“Well, that seems pretty unnatural,” Bucky said, with a shrug.  “I am by far the best looking fellow around.  You might not be unnatural, but I do question your taste.”

Steve stared at him for long moments.  “You still want to be my friend?” he whispered, not daring to believe.

Bucky snorted.  “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” he said.  “Now let’s get out of here and go find Loki.  Are you sure you’d rather have Stark?  I mean, Loki is pretty wealthy.”

“I am not attracted to Loki,” Steven said.  “And who says I am attracted to Stark?”  He pushed Bucky towards the stairs that led to the street entrance.

“When that Stane fellow started knocking him around, I thought you were going to kill him,” Bucky said, his voice low.  “Even after all of the ranting you did about Stark being a con man, though truly that should have tipped me off first.  You would not get so angry over someone who was a casual acquaintance.”

They exited the door and found that their luggage was already loaded.  Philip must have exited another way, because he was waiting as well, with a frown on his face but his shoulders set in determination.  Steve turned to Bucky.

“Whatever I might feel for Stark is beside the point,” Steve explained.  “My only concern is retrieving our friend.  Besides,” he added.  “Tony seems to have a sweetheart already.”  He nodded towards the tall redhead standing next to Philip, trying to engage him in conversation.

“Please,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.  “They have brother and sister written all over them,” he said.

“I do not think so,” Steven said, his heart heavy.  Anything beyond friendship would be a fool’s quest.  Even if Tony felt the same about him, they were from two very different worlds.  

“Well, don’t make any rash decisions.  Or, any more rash decisions,” Bucky advised.  “I know we hope that this will be a quick endeavor, but I have a feeling we are just at the beginning.”

“And you’re with me?” Steven asked.  To have Bucky by his side, even with the truth now out between them, was more than he could have hoped for.

“Until the end of the line, pal.”

  
  



	8. Taking Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, Steven, and their companions prepare to set off after the kidnappers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it has taken so long to update! Life has been insane (in a good way--yay new goddaughter!) and I haven't had time to edit. That being said, this is un-beta'd, so please let me know if you see anything weird/confusing!

Jarvis and Parker were already preparing the ship for departure.  They had obtained a set of scales and were currently weighing the luggage and cargo.  With such a large party, Tony knew that they would have to be careful in how much weight they carried, and he was mentally sorting through his items to see what could be left in storage.

The party was soon joined by a large, slightly worn carriage.  A distinguished-looking older man with an eyepatch climbed down, and then turned to help an older woman alight.  Thor hurried to greet them.

“Mother, Father,” he said, gathering them into a bonecrushing hug.  “They have taken him.”

“Hush, love,” the older woman, Mrs. Odinson apparently, said, rubbing circles on Thor’s broad back.

“Where is this Mr. Stark,” the older man asked.  

Tony walked up to them.  “Mr. Odinson,” he said, extending his hand.  He wondered if a nobleman would deign to shake the hand of an itinerant engineer.

“Stark,” the man said, grabbing Tony’s hand in a firm shake.  So he wasn’t too fussy, then.  “Howard’s son?  I knew your father many years ago.  I was sorry to hear of his and Maria’s deaths.”

Tony took in a sharp breath.  He wasn’t used to speaking about his father.  “Yes sir,” he said.  “As was I.”

And with that, the niceties were over.  “My son says you are heading out after the men who took Loki.”

“Yes sir,” Tony said.  “They have a start on us, but Phoenix is most certainly faster than their ship.  We are awaiting word on their last known direction.”

“What do you plan to do when you find them?  There is not a soldier amongst you.  If these men are well-armed, what chance do you have against them?” he asked, his face screwed up in scowl.  

“Sir, there are many times when a quick mind triumphs over a strong sword,” Tony replied.  “And if that fails, the knowledge of how to blow things up does come in handy.”

Mr. Odinson gave a rough chuckle.  “You sound very much like your father.  And that is all well and good, but my son has already been shot this day.  What assurances can you give me that he will not be subjected to further harm?”

“None.  This is a dangerous enterprise.  I have tried to get him to stay behind, but he is most adamant about joining us,” Tony explained.

“He gets that stubbornness from his mother,” Mr. Odinson grumbled.  He met with a quick jab to his ribs courtesy of his wife.  “Yes m’dear.  Sorry.  He gets it from me.”  Mrs. Odinson rolled her eyes.

“I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to bring both Loki and your son home safe,” Tony said.  “One of the apparent advantages that my background has given me is an ease moving about in the more sordid arenas of life.  I will protect them from it as best as I can.”

Mr. Odinson gave Tony a long and measured look.  “I am not without my own tales of those arenas,” he said.  He took out a packet of letters.  “These are letters of introduction to several of my contacts on the continent.  They may be able to provide you with swords and guns to go along with your explosions.”

Tony accepted the notes with a grateful smile.  “I do have one favor to ask,” he said.  “My friend Ms. Potts finds herself without a home due to these events.  Would you and Mrs. Odinson please keep an eye on her?”

“Of course, young man,” Mr. Odinson nodded.  

Pepper had argued, of course, that she should accompany them.  However, Tony had made the case that they were having to limit both persons and baggage to help them maintain the speed necessary to catch the other ship.  In the end, she agreed when he said that he would be leaving behind most of his crates as well.  She knew he would only leave his journals and tools if it was absolutely necessary.

Everyone stripped down their belongings to only the essentials.  Steven, Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Coulson pared down their belongings to one medium-sized trunk.  The younger Mr. Odinson had a trunk of clothing and personal effects, and a second trunk that his father assured them was full of weapons that might stand them in good stead on their journey.  

When Bruce arrived, he had a piece of paper clutched in his hand and a small trunk, that if Tony wasn’t mistaken, held more books than personal items.  Before they parted, he seemed convinced that Loki had been taken in connection to the tablet, which meant that if he could translate the markings he had copied down from the tablet, they might have some clue as to the masked man’s plan.  

“The army is tracking them as we speak.  I have their latest coordinates and headings.  They seem to be headed to France,” Bruce said.  “Miss Ross said that her father and his men closed the door before she heard any more than that.”  He handed Tony the sheet of paper.

Tony nodded and grabbed one end of Bruce’s trunk.  After depositing them both in the main gallery of the ship, he headed forward to the control room, where Jarvis was poring over maps.  

The room was small, with consoles connected to the engines and machinery ringing the small space.  The center was dominated by a large work table, where one could sit and navigate or do other work.  The windows kept it from feeling claustrophobic, but there was very little room to maneuver. Tony pulled up a small stool and sat down across from his mentor.

“France,” he said.  He pulled out the paper and handed it over.  “What are the latest wind reports?”

Jarvis took the paper and set to work with the compass and sextant.  “We’ll be in a bit of trouble until we reach the coast,” he said, “but the tail winds pick up over the Channel.”

“The winds will be helping them as well,” Tony said, biting his lip.

“What of the ship?  Built for speed?” Jarvis asked.

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head emphatically.  “The gondola was quite large, and if they are attempting to cross on to the Continent with that large of a crew, their supplies must be substantial.  We should be able to catch them, as long as they keep to their heading.”

“It would take them near to Paris,” Jarvis said, sitting back from the map and frowning.  “There are many private airfields to the north and east of the city.  I have several acquaintances in that area.”

“Dare I ask what sorts of acquaintances?” Tony asked.  

Jarvis rolled his eyes.  “Some are from my recent endeavors, most assuredly.  But there are some that I have known since your father was alive.”

It was the second time Howard had been mentioned that day, and Tony’s stomach did a flip.  Perhaps it was the thought of going off on an airship when his parents had met their end on such a journey.  Perhaps it was the reminder of death awaiting them at a moment’s notice.  Suddenly Steven’s face popped into his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut at the stab of pain he had when he thought of Steven and death.

“Anthony?” Jarvis prodded, in a gentle voice.

Tony opened his eyes and squared his shoulders.  “I’m fine.  I’ll make sure everyone is on board, and then we should get underway.”

He made his way to the back of the gondola, and found that all of the gear and luggage had been loaded.  Thor was making his final farewells to his mother and father, and then they could leave.  The blond giant joined them after only a few minutes, much to Tony’s happiness.  He made sure that all of the passengers were strapped in, and then joined Jarvis in the control room.

Parker fiddled with a series of levers that controlled the pitch of the flaps, while Tony and Jarvis manned the engine control.  With a few rotations of the crank, the rumbling engine came to life and they felt the Phoenix shudder.  Jarvis gave the signal to the ground crew to release the tethers, freeing them to take flight.

Tony’s heart pounded as Phoenix began to rise in the air.  He adjusted the engine to give them thrust, and they headed away from the airfield.  Jarvis joined Peter at the navigation controls and turned them to the proper heading.  

As they sped along into the night, Tony shivered with a combination of fear and elation.  He knew in his bones that whatever might lay ahead of them, his life would never be the same.  For better or for worse.

 

 


End file.
